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The path you led me to—
a swamp, alive and unyielding.
With each step, my feet resist,
sinking deeper, held fast.

Trees all around, silent witnesses,
and I fear their stillness—
rooted, immovable,
a fate I dread to mirror.

Wild beasts—
drunken with bloodlust—
encircle me.
The wind rushes past—
a current of hushed warnings.
Dried leaves, brittle twigs
touch my fingers, only to flee.

People pass,
piercing my shoulders, back, and head.
No hand is offered;
instead, laughter echoes,
a cruel uproar blending
with the cries of unseen beasts.

The mire clings to my wounds,
I smear it across my scars,
hoping to keep others from slipping—
yet they trample me, careless,
deepening the marks I bear.


I conceal my tears,
Mold my pain into a fragile smile.
Hiding an ocean - waiting,
In the corners of these eyes.

Lest it floods and bursts one day,
grips my trembling heart.

What strange bond
binds this swamp to me?
It holds me close,
its grip persistent, unyielding—
neither letting me drown
nor setting me free.

----

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